The Devil in Disguise
by a kid named Lyd
Summary: When the Schreave family was overthrown, the rebellion gave power to a new group of people with magic abilities. All Prince Jackson ever wanted to do was teach magic, but when a terrible accident claims his older siblings and forces him to become the heir, he must embark on his Selection while trying to navigate his family's dark secrets. SYOC 8/20
1. Chapter 1: I Announce My Impending Doom

Let me just start by saying this: I never thought Eadlyn Schreave was a bad person—just kind of dumb.

Maybe my opinion would've been different if Eadlyn's actions hadn't directly lead my family to the throne of Illéa. But this might require some context. Allow me to introduce myself: Prince Jackson Caspiad, heir to the throne, a One.

But now, back to Eadlyn. Many years ago—enough that it's all been written in history books already—Eadlyn Schreave was our country's young queen. She was beautiful, if cold, and not always well received by her people. Early in her reign, Queen Eadlyn made two very important decisions: first, she married a man who was not a member of her Selection; and second, she gave the people voting rights.

My father, King Florian—don't ask, it's a family name—says that Eadlyn trusted the people too much. History says that she was trying to quell any rebellion. I think she was just sort of dumb. But regardless of Eadlyn's motivations, they backfired. She inadvertently poured accelerant on the embers of revolution.

These rebels were unlike those that came before. They supported no ruler—much to Marid Illéa's chagrin, history says—but instead their own self interests. They were people who were tired of discrimination, regardless of their caste or background. They were people who would no longer be ignored.

They were magic folk, long forced into secrecy. Their denial of their magical roots led to hiding in plain sight, marrying into regular families, taking positions of importance. By the time they took control of Illéa, they were the majority. The outlook on magic has changed. Now, your abilities are what make you powerful.

But there's a complication that comes with the incorporation of magic into our society. Dad says this was why my great-great grandfather, King Lear, reinstated the castes. "Order is how we protect ourselves," King Lear had told the world. And whether it was true or not, everyone believed him.

With the addition of magic also came further stipulations on the castes. Only castes 1 through 4 were permitted to have a formal magical education. Their schooling aligned closely with their desired trade or occupation, and regardless of their home province, they were permitted to attend magical schools throughout Illéa. Their wands were of the best quality and materials, and the magical world was their oyster.

It was different for the lower castes. Castes 5 and 6 were allowed to practice magic, and if they could afford to send their children to a tutor in their own province, that was also allowed. But they were not granted access to formal wands, although some made their own crude versions. Castes 7 and 8 were barred from practicing magic. The reasoning was that the jobs of these castes did not require magic and that those who were poor might be more willing to find an easy route to improve their circumstances—even with dark magic.

Being Ones, my sisters, brother, and I received the best magical educations in the country. Whenever I was young, my mom had always said it was important for us to be the most powerful not only in name but in talent. Her duty as a mother was paramount, even above her obligations as a queen.

Until I was about ten, I always wanted to be a tutor. Minnie and Voris—those were our tutors—had always kept me hanging on every word, and it amazed me how they knew _everything_. I wanted to help others master their crafts the way that Minnie and Voris helped me.

But one of the first lessons that I learned early in life—probably even earlier than Eadlyn Schreave—was that things don't always work out as you plan.

I was born third in line to the throne. A respectable place that I had little complaint with. I wasn't babied as much as my younger sister, Aylee, but I didn't have the responsibilities as my older siblings, Ezra and Florence, who were about eight and seven years my senior. I flew mostly under the radar as a kid.

Until one day I woke up and was suddenly the heir.

We don't talk about it much, especially Mom and Dad. Sometimes, I doubt whether even I was told the whole story. Minnie was the one who broke the news to me. I remember it distinctly, even though I was only eight at the time: "Hail, Prince Jackson," Minnie had said, and I was pretty sure she'd been about to cry, "Our future king."

All we were told was there was an accident. There were no details, but it sounded terrible. Florence—who'd been the best older sister, always sweet, laughing, slipping Aylee and me treats when Mom and Dad weren't looking—was dead. And Ezra, my older brother, my best friend, my hero… He was gone too.

It's hard to adjust to a different course of life when you've always pictured something so different for yourself. I thought I'd be traveling the world, teaching magic to the greatest witches and wizards of our day. Instead, my life would be dictated by protocol, obligations, and public opinion. My cage was one of marble, gold, pomp and circumstance—but a cage nonetheless.

I mostly got over the disappointment in my angst-y teenage years. Some days it still bothers me. My cousin, Harrod, plans on being a tutor, which doesn't help. But certain things are expected of me.

Being on time, for instance. Listen, I'd said I'd gotten used to it, not that I'd gotten better.

"Slow _down_ , Your Highness!" Minnie admonished in a horrified stage whisper as I rushed past her.

"Sorry, Min!" I laughed, "Running late!"

She probably rolled her eyes—Minnie does that a lot, particularly where I'm involved—but I raced towards the studio. I was only five minutes later for the _Report_. Five minutes shouldn't have been a big deal, but when the whole country was watching, Mom would probably treat it like the end of the world.

The cameras were still powered down when I arrived, admittedly a little disheveled. Mom gave a wave of her cedar wand, her face stern, and I felt my tie tighten around my neck and invisible hands smooth my hair. "Sorry, I'm late," I tried to laugh as the hands buttoned my suit jacket. I swatted at them and pulled my own wand from my pocket threateningly.

"Jackson," Mom sighed, "You _know_ what a big day this is."

I hopped into my chair between her and my younger sister. Aylee ignored us all, instead focused on the book on her lap. "I'm ready," I promised as I gave a nod to host, Abasi.

"You remember what to say?" my father asked. In line with his silly name, my father seemed incapable of looking unhappy. Political cartoons occasionally mocked this fact, even though he was very well liked by the people, even if the policies that he continued to enforce were occasionally criticized as outdated.

I nodded. "Yep."

Dad nodded at Abasi, who waved his aspen wand at the camera. The stage spotlights focused on us as a red light began to blink on the camera, a sign that we were being broadcast to the country.

"Welcome Illéa to this evening's _Report_!" greeted Abasi in his deep voice. He was an intimidating figure: tall and solid with a baritone voice and dark skin. But he made the most animated faces, was quite friendly when you got to know him, and I'd always thought that his overly fancy, silvery wand was sort of funny as well. "We have a very exciting edition for you tonight! But first, as a follow up from last week's show, we wanted to check in with Queen Olympia about the educational reforms…"

Aylee and I sat with fake smiles plastered on our faces for most of the show. It was usually boring for us, unless our parents gave us a topic or two to talk about. Being the heir, I usually got more air time than Aylee, but she didn't mind much. She didn't particularly like public speaking, something that people always used to contrast her to Florence, who was always at ease in front of cameras.

But the news that I got to share tonight was some of the most exciting and completely terrifying. As a prince, it was the most important thing that I would do until I became king. When my father gave me a "you're on" nod, I sat up a little straighter in my seat and smiled towards the camera.

"Good evening," I greeted them. My voice cracked, and I blushed. Aylee snorted beside me. "As some of you might be aware, my nineteenth birthday is shortly approaching," I said. I twirled my wand nervously in my left hand. "And in accordance with our sacred Illéan tradition, my parents and I are happy to announce that my Selection to find your next Queen will soon commence."

I paused. The modification to the Selection that Dad and his advisers had gone back and forth over for weeks made my hands sweat. It was unorthodox, but more than that, I didn't know how I felt about it. "And for the first time ever, we would like to extend the invitation to persons of any caste, magical or otherwise." What would it be like if my wife _wasn't_ a witch? It was an idea more foreign than being king had been at eight years old. I rarely met people who couldn't perform magic.

"Forms will be sent to all eligible young ladies," I continued while the audience buzzed over this latest development, "and due within a week. In two weeks at my birthday celebration, you will join us as we announce the revered Daughters of Illéa that will comprise my Selected. Thank you."

We hadn't discussed closings, so I awkwardly smiled at the crown for a minute until my father and Abasi hopped in to cut off any awkward pauses. I didn't remember too much of my brother, Ezra, but I was sure that he'd been a natural in situations like this. A part of me wished he was there to offer some guidance, even while another part of me told myself that I was being stupid, since Ezra would be the heir if he were here.

My internal dialogue carried me through the closings, and before I knew it, Abasi swished his wand and the camera died. "Well done, Your Majesty!" he complimented me excitedly. It was the second Selection that Abasi would have the honor of acting as Master of Ceremonies throughout—my parent's being his first. He looked excited. I wished I could've felt the same, but mostly, I just felt a little nauseous. It was happening.

"You did wonderful," Mom assured me comfortingly as she squeezed my arm. I tried to smile at her, but it came out as more of a grimace.

My father laughed. "Get ready, Jack. Thirty-five girls is certainly an adventure."

Mom elbowed Dad. "Don't you mean the greatest experience of your life?"

Aylee pretended to gag, and I laughed. Hopefully I knew what I was in for. I was just hoping I didn't screw up as badly as Eadlyn Schreave.

* * *

 **Hi, everyone, and thank you so much for reading! This is my first SYOC, so I'm very excited about it and also open to constructive criticisms, if you ever care to share any! Also, thank you to my great editor, L.C. Carraway. You should check out her SYOC because it's amazing.**

 **If you're at all interested in entering, for the moment I will take 15 girls (this could changed based on interest). The form is on my profile, and please submit through P.M. only. :)**


	2. Chapter 2: Being Prince is No Fun Today

Even though my work was piling up, I couldn't focus. "Come on, Minnie, please," I complained for what seemed like the millionth time. "You have to tell me."

Minnie didn't look moved. "You have work to do," she reminded me. Her eyes never even glanced up from the essay that she was grading.

I pushed my essay towards Aylee, who was bent over her cauldron. "Aylee's smart enough for the both of us," I pointed out. It was only partially a joke. I worked hard and liked learning, but Aylee was naturally intelligent.

In response, Aylee picked up her wand and pointed it at my notebook. The words began to erase themselves, letter by letter, and I let out an undignified yelp of surprise as I grabbed my wand. "Stop!" I ordered, jabbing the paper.

"I don't believe 'stop' is a proper spell," Aylee noted, her glasses still perched over her nose as she diced a root. I wasn't sure exactly what it was—Aylee was the potions prodigy—but it smelled terrible.

I glared at my sister as an entire paragraph disappeared. " _Desino_." The letters paused in the middle of a word.

Minnie's face was amused, but she looked away when I caught her eyes. "Fine," I declared, safely closing the cover of my notebook. "I'll ask Voris. He'll tell me."

"Or assign you an essay on it," snorted Aylee.

She had a point. Of our two tutors, Minnie was the more laid back one, though she wasn't a pushover by any sense. Asking Voris a question usually led to a rigorous assignment that resulted in more self-study than I was interested in presently. "I just asked a simple question," I mumbled beneath my breath as I reached for my pen again.

Minnie sighed and lowered the essay. "Why are you so interested in Briarcliff all of the sudden?" she asked.

Briarcliff was the most renowned magical school in Illéa. Before I'd been crown prince, my greatest aspiration had been to attend the boarding school in Likely. I shrugged, attempting to look casual. "I saw something about it in the paper," I lied.

Aylee rolled her eyes as she scooped her root into her cauldron. The steam rising from it changed from emerald to lilac. Clearly, this was a good sign, as she looked triumphant before she declared, "Father is sending Harrod, and he's jealous."

"Am not!" I instantly countered. I glared at my sister and grabbed a stray flower to toss into her cauldron.

"Jackson, don't—!"

But her warning didn't come soon enough, and she just managed to push me out of my chair before the potion that she'd been working on exploded. "You idiot!" scolded Aylee, "Why would you toss hemlock into that?! It's ruined!"

Before I could apologize, Minnie waved her wand and vanished the now molten concoction in Aylee's cauldron. "Look at it as additional practice, Princess," she told my sister in her ever-calm voice. "Why don't you go try to recreate it on your own? You were doing wonderful and hardly need my supervision."

Aylee packed up her things with minimal grumbling—Minnie's flattery clearly did a number on her—and left the room. When Minnie turned her gaze to me, she looked more pitying than angry about the potion disaster. "So, your father has decided to pay for Harrod's tuition after all?" she asked.

"Yeah." I grabbed my pen and tried to remember the sentence that my annoying sister had erased.

Harrod was my older cousin. Aside from that, he was also my closest friend. We'd grown up together, since his father had unwisely tried to overthrow my father (it didn't end well for him, in case you were wondering). Harrod was less than a year older than me, and we'd always dreamed of going to Briarcliff together, as we'd both hoped to be tutors. The problem was, with Briarcliff's prestige came a hefty price tag, and since Uncle Dempsey had been convicted of treason, all his money had been seized by the government.

I'd never doubted my dad would pay for Harrod's attendance. He was a softie in that way. Harrod had always been treated as another son rather than the orphan of a criminal. But when my father had finally made it official on Harrod's nineteenth birthday last week, I'd been torn between excitement and jealousy.

Don't get me wrong. I was really excited for Harrod. He was going to get to learn from some of the best magical minds in the world.

Since I was ten, I knew that I was going to the king one day. Whether it was something I necessarily wanted or not, it was my reality. But it'd also meant letting go of dreams, and it was hard to accept that Harrod was going to get to live out the fantasy we created as children while I stayed behind and dealt with the something as intimidating as the Selection.

"Harrod's very lucky," Minnie acknowledged.

That didn't help. "Yeah." I slumped lower in my chair.

"What's this?" Minnie asked, "Are Voris and I no longer meeting your standards, Your Highness?" It was clear that she was joking, but I blushed in response anyway.

"It's not that," I countered, still avoiding her gaze. "It's just that we always dreamed of going to Briarcliff _together_ and being the best tutors in the world. Now only Harrod gets to do it."

"Because you're going to be _king_ ," Minnie pointed out.

"Yeah." I smiled thinly. Although it had been an accident and in no way their faults, sometimes I resented Ezra and Florence for leaving me in this position. "Lucky me."

Minnie was silent for a long minute as she seemed to debate something in her mind. When she finally spoke, she was hesitant. "You know, Jackson… if you truly don't want to be king… you could abdicate."

The way she said it made it sound like an actual possibility, which made me snort in amusement. She was the only one who had presented it as an actual option. While in theory abdication was possible, it was probably the most selfish option I could choose. The problem of taking away someone's dream didn't disappear if I abdicated. It was just moved to my younger sister, who'd always wanted to be an alchemist. It was one of the rarest occupations in not only Illéa but the world, and if there was someone who was smart enough to do it, it was my younger sister.

"Yeah, Min," I chuckled, "I'll take it into consideration." I stood and scooped up my notebook. "I think we should pick up tomorrow, if that's okay."

"Of course, Your Highness," agreed Minnie. I pretended not to see her sad smile as I slipped from the room.

On my way back to my room, a cheerful voice called my name. I turned to see my mom hurrying towards me, an enchanted pen scribbling away frantically on a notebook as it trailed in the air behind her. Amongst those who practiced it, there were varying levels of dependency on magic, but whether it was because of my mom's position as queen or just a personal preference, she always seemed to have her wand in her hand.

"There you are!" she smiled as she took my arm. "How were lessons?"

"Um, I exploded Aylee's deception draught."

It obviously went over her head, because her response was, "Lovely dear." She tapped the notebook with her wand, which turned around so I could see it. An itemized list—with numbers one through twenty—greeted me. "We have so much to do," she fretted.

"For what?" I asked. I hadn't been planning for much other than finishing my essay on lunar phases and potion making.

She seemed shocked that I didn't immediately realize what she was referring to. "The Selection, of course!"

I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. "Yeah, about that," I mumbled, "I thought it would be best if you and Aylee did the planning for that one." Before she could look too scandalized, I added, "Mom, I know next to nothing about girls. And I think the girls that I do know are a little different than the ones that are going to be entering the Selection."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Uh…" I awkwardly tried to explain it with my hands, which clearly wasn't helpful since her face didn't show any comprehension. "You know… some of them might not do magic."

Generally, since the upper castes had very formal magical educations, I didn't meet a lot of people who weren't magical, for one reason or another. I was excited to see how the others lived, but it was also a little unsettling. This was the first Selection that had been opened to Sevens and Eights, partially to appease the non-magical castes.

My mom waved my concerns away. "I'm sure it'll be a nonissue," she countered, "Besides, we have more important things to worry about, Jackson."

"Really?" I asked, knitting my eyebrows together. "Uh, okay. What is it?"

She beamed at my newfound interest and tapped her notebook with her wand. It turned to the next page, which featured numerous little squares in varying shades of white. "Which do you like the best for the Selected's bedrooms?"

I stared at her for a minute and realized that she was being deathly serious. Repressing a laugh, I pointed to the first one that caught eye. She moved to tap her notebook again, but I interjected, "Uh, I really need to get to my next lesson. You know how Voris can get."

If there was one person in the palace that could keep even my capricious mother in line, it was my other tutor. She frowned. "Alright," she allowed, "I'll send anything else that needs your approval to your bedroom, I suppose."

The disappointed look on her face made me feel a little bad about lying, but I couldn't look at paint swatches all afternoon when I had a million other things to think about. I headed back to my room and dropped my essay on my desk before I reached for the daily paper. The front cover held a statistical evaluation of entries for my Selection were going—a little behind entries for my father's, but to be expected since I wasn't the original heir, the papers conceded—and a detailed essay about crop difficulties we'd been experiencing this year and whether the upper castes should use their abilities to rectify the problem.

With a quick glance around to make sure my valet, Hamilton, wasn't around, I flipped to the back of the newspaper. The gossip pages had always been one of my weaknesses, and if there was one place to really get the scoop on how my Selection was going, this was it.

Unfortunately, the first column was about the recent announcement that Harrod would be attending Briarcliff, which felt like another slap in the face. I sighed and folded the paper so I couldn't see the article.

The first was a brief interview with a somewhat famous Two named Babette Valor. I'd heard of her before. She was a ballet dancer who, despite her caste, had never honed her magical skills. There were whispers that she was incapable of performing magic—a dud, as was occasional even in powerful magical families—although Babette had always insisted that she simply preferred to focus on her ballet career.

The reporter had asked her what she thought of me and why she'd decided to enter the Selection. The column documented her response: "" _I think Prince Jackson is very cute," giggles Babette as she twirls a lock of hair. "I entered in hopes of meeting him, of course. I also would like to bring attention to my situation and show that you don't have to choose magic to be successful." It's an unpopular stance and a radical stance. Surely, it would be interesting to see how Ms. Valo's beliefs would differ from others in such an event as the Selection, which has been opened to lower castes this year for the first time ever_.""

It seemed strange to me that someone who had the ability to use magic wouldn't want to, especially since I'd always been interested in learning as much as I could about it. I moved on to a different article, which featured a picture of a group of girls.

" _For some, this is their first chance to enter the Selection. Farmhands and Sevens, Fleur and Laelynn, are sisters who are entering for the first time. "I think it's very kind of the king to extend the chance to others," Laelynn replied when asked about this new opportunity. While not from a high caste, she is pretty, surely the type that might catch the prince's eye."_

She certainly was pretty, with wavy blonde hair and a petite frame. It was weird to think that there were types of people like Laelynn that I might not have ever met if not for the Selection's expansion.

The door to my room opened, and I hastily flipped away from the gossip section. "That you, Ham?" I asked while trying to keep my voice casual.

"Yes, Your Highness." Hamilton was levitating a lunch tray ahead of him. As a Six, Hamilton was allowed to use magic, although his roughly hewn wand was nowhere near as powerful as mine or my families and he'd never been tutored. He'd told me that most of his knowledge had been taught to him by his mother, and as a result, most of the spells that he knew were for household chores. He didn't seem to mind though, since it helped in his line of work.

"Harrod was looking for you," he added once the tray was settled. "Should I send for him? I think he said his schedule for Briarcliff arrived."

I grimaced. "Uh, no, that's okay," I countered, "I'm kind of tired. I was assaulted by my mom after my lesson with Minnie so I'm a little tired."

Hamilton looked suspicious, like he knew that wasn't why I didn't want to talk to Harrod, but he didn't say anything. "How are preparations for your party coming along, by the way?"

"Fine, I guess," I frowned. "Mom and Dad want me to pick the Selected that night, since it'll already be televised."

Hamilton whistled in surprise. "Only a few more days of freedom them," he remarked.

"Don't remind me," I groaned. "If only there was a charm to slow down time."

"Check with Voris," suggested Hamilton, "He seems to know everything."

"Maybe I will," I admitted. For now, I was just going to stress about the Selection until the announcements were made. At least it would hopefully keep my mind off Harrod and Briarcliff.

* * *

 **Sorry for the long wait! I've been really busy with school, but I have break soon, so I'm going to keep working on this :) Thanks if you've already sent in a character! If you're still interested, there's one more chapter before the girls are fully introduced, so if you could get a character to me by the end of December, I would really appreciate it! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3: Hearts and Jars Break

**Ferryn Odell, 3, Likely**

The little shed that I'd turned into my workshop was drafty in the fall morning, but it didn't bother me much. I bent low over my worktable, holding my breath as I used my wand to carefully weave a thin thread through what would hopefully become a willow wand. It was a slow, painstaking process, but there was no other way I would have preferred to spend the morning. My mentor at Briarcliff, Professor Albany, had recently entrusted me with a single unicorn hair that would hopefully be the true core of the wand, but I wasn't about to jump right in with the precious material.

The door to the shed banged open, and I jumped. The sudden jerking of my wand caused the thread to snap, and I turned to glare fiercely in the direction of the intruder. "Anette!" I protested. It was rare that I was unhappy to see my closest friend, but she had an issue with knocking that often conflicted with my study schedule.

She examined the mess she'd caused. "It's not even a real hair," she countered, "You can whip up another."

"It took three hours to cast the replica," I frowned.

"You can hate me later," she dismissed, "Look at this!" She shoved a packet under my nose.

My eyes scanned it briefly before I shrugged. "So?" I asked. "We always knew there was going to be a Selection."

"But this is perfect timing," countered Anette, "You're doing so well at school you can ask deferment to enter."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Why on earth would I want to do that?" I summoned the broken piece from inside the wand and considered repairing it. It might not have the same fluidity as a real unicorn hair if I tried that, so I balled it up and tossed it into the trash with a sigh. "Where's that spellbook?" I wondered aloud as I searched for the tome I had used to create the thread in the first place.

Anette located the book first and grabbed it. "No," she declared, "Not until you fill out the form."

"What form?"

I groaned as the door to the shop opened again. My older sister, Coralie, walked in with a plate in her hands. She was followed by her husband, Noah, and I tried to tell myself that the sight of food was what made my breath momentarily catch in my throat.

"The Selection entry," declared Anette, turning to my sister for back-up. "Tell her she should enter, Cora."

"The Selection?" Noah's brows knit together. "That doesn't sound like a very Ferryn thing to do."

"Thank you," I sighed. I grabbed a piece of toast off Coralie's plate and turned back to the wand, inspecting it with a set of magnifying glasses to make sure that no broken fibers were left inside.

"Ferry," protested Coralie, "Why wouldn't you enter? You don't know that you'll be picked, and if you are, what a cool opportunity…" She and Anette continued with their persuasion attempts, which I firmly ignored.

"What are you working on, Fer?" Noah asked as he leaned his elbows on the worktable beside me. His arm brushed mine, and I had to channel all of my focus into not letting the contact cause my hands to shake.

"Willow wand," I told him, "Albany thinks I can bind the unicorn hair myself."

"That's incredible."

I tried to repress my smile, but it was one of my favorite things about Noah. He always understood what I wanted from my career and why I cared so much about wandlore. While my family was encouraging in their own way, he took an interest that was just more. "Do you want to see it?" I asked, glancing over at him.

"Of course," he grinned.

I pulled the vial that the unicorn hair had been placed in from the locked drawer of the table and removed it with my wand. I hadn't shown it to anyone else since Albany had placed it in my possession, partially out of greed to have something with so many magical properties in my possession and partially fear, since it was such a coveted and valuable item. Noah and I both stared mesmerized at it as it floated through the air.

"This is going to be an incredible wand," Noah declared.

"I hope so," I smiled in agreement. "The hair is unusually vibrant, and Albany said that the tree that I picked—"

"Ferry, it's going to be incredible because _you_ made it," he countered.

I blushed and returned the unicorn hair to its container. "If I don't mess it up," I muttered.

"Ferryn, are you even listening?" protested Coralie.

I begrudgingly swiveled around on my stool to face her. Although Coralie was five years older than me, people often asked if we were twins. We had the same caramel brown hair, the same doe-like features, and dimpled smiles. We'd always been close as well, which made my current predicament even harder.

"I really think this would be good for you," she insisted. "You could get out there—meet some new people. And if that's not enough, you know the prince's tutors are Voris Alastor and Miryam Deene."

Voris Alastor was generally regarded as the brightest wizard of our age. Miryam was his apprentice, the only student he'd ever taken under his wing. Both had been employed for the royal children's education and had all the resources of Illéa at their fingertips.

The things I could learn…

Noah fidgeted beside me, seeming uncomfortable. "Cora, you don't want her to enter to use the prince for his tutors."

Coralie's brown eyes softened. "I want her to get out of this dusty workshop and live," she insisted with a smile. "I want her to see beautiful places and meet interesting people and experience things."

Coralie had always been a dreamer.

I noticed Anette watching Noah with a critical gaze, so I took the form from Coralie. "I'll think about it," I promised her. "Thank you for lunch, but I really have to get back to work." My sister gave my shoulders a quick squeeze before she took her husband's hand, and the two departed.

When it was just the two of us, I spun away from Anette and tried to focus on the wand on the table. But I couldn't. I knew what she was thinking. "Stop," I sighed.

Anette shrugged as she took Noah's vacated seat. "I didn't say anything."

"I can practically hear your thoughts," I frowned. I didn't need to cast a spell or slip her a potion to know what Anette thought of my friendship with Coralie's husband.

The truth was, it was complicated. I had met Noah three years ago at Briarcliff. He was the top of his class, studying to be a magizoologist and the type of person that drew people in—professors, friends, everything.

It began with studying together in the library. I didn't know what to say when he asked if he could sit with me, so I did an awkward spasm that he luckily interpreted as approval. We didn't talk for a week, just silently sitting in each other's company. But then he asked me the simplest question—"what made you want to be a wandmaker?"—and I opened up like never before. He was the easiest person for me to talk to.

No one had ever understood me like Noah had. No one shared the drive that kept me locked in the workshop until the late hours of the morning or made me jump to take on more tasks when my workload was already overflowing. No one except Noah.

But I didn't know what to do when he asked me to get dinner after a late study session one Friday. A million thoughts and anxieties ran through my head. The initial fear was that he knew my mother was a famous magizoologist and that had inspired his interest. The second was how on earth could he like me? The third was that a relationship would impact my work.

But I'd also been worried about what would happen if he moved on to someone else. He would probably study with her, tell all of his greatest hopes and dreams to her. I didn't want to lose him, but I wasn't brave enough to take him. So, I invited him over for dinner instead and introduced him to Coralie. Although she worked as a librarian, she didn't share same drive as the rest of our family. She was more laid-back, calm, creative, open to life.

Anyone who knew Coralie loved her. She married Noah a year later.

Anette's eyes were pitying. "Please don't," I sighed.

She was a therapist and tended to psychoanalyze everything. "Fer, if you don't enter this competition, this is going to be the rest of your life," she declared. "Pining after stupid Noah in this stupid workshop."

"I don't pine—"

"You do, and one day Cora is going to see it," she declared. "And she's going to feel betrayed, because you know that she wouldn't have even gone on that first date with him if you hadn't lied and said you didn't like him."

The problem with having such a smart best friend was that she saw everything and wasn't afraid to tell it like it was. I stared down at the Selection form again. If it made Cora happy… I sighed, picked up my wand and slowly inscribed my name onto the first line. Instead of looking triumphant, Anette put a comforting hand on my shoulder. It was exactly what I needed to fill out the rest.

* * *

 **Prince Jackson**

The morning got off to a rough start when the first jar exploded. It was a little unsettling, because I'd never met anyone more in control of their magic than Voris. I sent a questioning look at Minnie, who also looked surprised. Dad stopped talking, his eyebrows knit together in concern.

Voris didn't apologize or pick up his wand to deal with the jar. "What you're asking is _outrageous_ , Florian."

Dad blushed, looking uncomfortable. Voris had been his tutor when he was young as well, the type of influence that Dad still tried to please even though he was in his late forties. "I don't know if it's 'outrageous,' Voris," Dad countered with a hopeful chuckle, "I was thinking innovative or perhaps progressive—"

"Furthermore," continued Voris, effectively cutting Dad off, "it's foolhardy and stupid."

This shut Dad up.

"Now, Voris," Minnie tried, "even when only Fives and Sixes could enter from the lower castes, we dealt with their elevated status to Threes."

Maybe I should explain a little: the issue on the table was Sevens and Eights. Since the Selection hadn't been open to all the castes since my family had come to power, it brought up some new complications. The biggest problem was that just by chosen, the girls were elevated to Threes—Threes who technically had a right to practice magic.

"Yes, they bought real wands and went on their merry way, usually remaining subpar at magic. Sevens and Eights are _different_ ," Voris dismissed her argument. "Do you realize, Florian, that many Sevens and Eights won't even have magical abilities? If their families ever even did—highly doubtful—it'll have been stamped out by now."

"Then it won't be an issue," Father offered brightly. "Look, Voris, I'm just asking you to help them along a little, maybe help them choose wands or show them how to control their powers so they won't be completely helpless—"

Another jar cracked, though it didn't shatter completely. "No."

"Now, Voris," Father tried, "Be reasonable."

Voris drew himself up to his full height—impressive, considering he was an eighty-year-old man. His lined face was set in a determined glare, and when he spoke, there wasn't a hint of yielding in his voice. "I am the crown prince and princess' tutor," he announced, "It is my duty to teach and assist them on their magical journeys, and I will continue to do that as I have since they were children. My time will not be wasted, Florian, on this attempt at pacification."

"Need I remind you that these people are the reason that our kind was forced to conceal their gifts under the Schreave rule," Voris added. "We owe nothing to Sevens and Eights."

There was a tense silence in the room. I knew that the plan to open the Selection to all castes was being received with mixed reviews, but I hadn't realized that even people in the palace were so conflicted about the decision.

It was obvious that Dad had no clue what to say, so Minnie spoke up. "The girls will have a handler once they leave to help them with their caste transition," she pointed out, "and I suppose they shouldn't really be focused on their new castes and opportunities anyway while they're here. Giving them wands preemptively might impair their ability to form a relationship with Jackson." It was weird hearing them discuss my life like I wasn't here, but I had nothing to add so I tried to focus on my potion (it didn't work well, in case you were wondering). "I'm sure Voris wouldn't object to helping the new princess once Jackson finds her, though?" added Minnie.

Voris' mouth was pulled taut in a thin line. "Permitted she _has_ magical abilities."

"Uh… yes, I suppose that sounds all right," Dad nodded. "Thank you, Voris."

Voris still looked disgruntled. "Jackson and I were in the middle of a lesson," he reminded Dad.

"Oh, of course," chortled my absentminded father. "Well, I'll not bother you any longer then." He scurried away, like he was afraid Voris might bewitch something to chase him from the room.

My tutor's dark gaze landed on me. "Back to work."

"Must you be so curmudgeonly?" chuckled Minnie as she repackaged the broken jars with her wand.

Voris sighed and sank into a seat, momentarily looking his age. "Sometimes, Florian is too blindly hopeful."

"He means well," countered Minnie. I returned my attention on the potion I was supposed to be brewing.

"Counter-clockwise stirs, Jackson," Voris noted with a glance in my direction. I changed the direction of my wand and the potion turned the proper shade of blue.

"Besides, you don't know that any Sevens or Eights will even be chosen," continued Minnie. She was one of the few people whose opinions Voris ever seemed to really consider, but even in this case, he shook his head.

"Oh, there will be some. And mark my words, Jackson," he frowned, "watch out for these Sevens and Eights. They didn't get to their castes by being good people."

A shiver slid down my spine, and I glanced around to see if anyone had opened a window (they hadn't). "Define 'not good people,'" I requested.

"When King Lear reinstated the caste system, Sevens were those who ardently fought the equality of magical people, and there were no Eights," Voris declared. "It is a caste you fall to, and it has filled quickly."

It didn't make sense that Dad would open the Selection to such people, but Voris continued, "There have been increased reports of dark magic from the Department of Magical Law. I wouldn't be surprised in the least if it was the result of Sevens and Eights."

"I thought they couldn't do magic," I frowned.

"They're not permitted to legally, of course, but technically… Let's just say if we're lucky, they can't," noted Voris. "But what do you think happens to witches and wizards of higher castes that go dark?"

Fortunately, I knew the answer to this one. "They're sent to prison," I recited, "Evidence of dark magic is a lifetime ban from owning a wand and a fifteen-year minimum sentence."

Voris grimaced. " _If_ they're caught by the DML. Sometimes, they're cast out by their families or live as fugitives, which makes them Eights and now eligible for your Selection."

I shivered again. "Can we light a fire in here or something?" I muttered, glancing around the tower where Voris spent most of his time. It was in one of the older parts of the castle, elegantly decorated but a little dated. Particularly drafty today as well.

"Stop it," Minnie scolded Voris as she pointed her wand at the fireplace. A warm blaze burst to life. "There won't be any criminals in Jackson's Selection."

"Hmm. We'll see. Until we know for sure, I'll be brewing as many detection draughts and truth potions as possible," he declared. While Voris could be intense, it felt good to have him on my side. If there was anything suspicious going on, he'd get to the bottom of it.

He tapped the edge of my cauldron sharply with his wand. "Stir," he reminded me. I did as instructed, shaking off all thoughts of Sevens, Eights, and dark magic.

* * *

 **A little more background on the society, I suppose, and our first Selected! Ferryn is one of our main characters, and there are many more that I cannot wait to introduce! There will also be supporting and minor characters, so a lot of roles still open (: Thank you to everyone who has reserved a character or let me know that they enjoy the story! I cannot wait to receive all of your wonderful OCs, they've been so creative and interesting!**


	4. Chapter 4: Ready or Not

**Prince Jackson**

My bedroom door swung open, and I jumped, which caused the fabric of my tie to slip through my fingers. "Merlin's sake," I grumbled, giving up and grabbing my wand. With a quick swish, the tie knotted itself.

Aylee swept into the room in a floor length gown. She looked impatient. "You realize you're late to your own birthday party?"

I pulled my suit jacket on. "Not helping, Ayl." In stark contrast to my late older sister, Florence, Aylee wasn't the most comforting presence. While she highly logical and intelligent, emotions weren't where she excelled.

"Why don't you just turn your clocks ahead?" she asked. "Make it impossible for yourself to be late."

"But then I would know that they were early, and I would still be late," I argued. Aylee rolled her eyes. Before she could ask if I was almost ready, I remarked, "I'm just looking for my cufflinks."

"Are you a wizard or not?" demanded Aylee. She produced her wand from a small clutch that coordinated with her dress and confidently declared, " _Uocare._ " The silver cufflinks unearthed themselves from under a pile of papers on my dresser and zoomed into her hand. She handed them over.

As I fixed them into place, Aylee crossed her arms and looked at me in an evaluating manner. "You wouldn't be stalling on purpose, would you?"

The blush rose in my face before I could fight it. "Of course not," I scoffed. "Why would I—"

"I don't know," she admitted, "But pretending you can't find your cufflinks when all it required was the simplest spell seems like stalling to me. Also, you had all day to get ready. I had lessons until four, and I was still on time."

"Well, I'm ready now," I declared. "So, do you want to chat or get to the party before Mom kills both of us?"

"She wouldn't kill me," countered Aylee, "They need at least one child, and Mom's too old to produce another heir."

I snorted and directed her towards the door. "Don't let her hear you saying that, or she will _definitely_ kill you."

If I was being honest, Aylee was right. I had been stalling a little bit. Although I was usually excited for my birthday, this year it had been overshadowed by the announcement of the Selected. That was something I was a little less excited and more nervous for.

I didn't really know what I wanted in a wife yet—I'd had one relationship to this point, and let's just say it didn't go the best—but ready or not, I'd be introducing my thirty-five choices tonight. It'd be not only my but the country's first look at the Selected.

The combination of voices and music could already be heard outside the ballroom, and I hoped that Mom and Dad wouldn't notice just how late I was. "Think we'll be able to sneak in?" I asked Aylee.

"Not a chance."

She was right. As soon as the guards opened the doors to the ballroom, the butler stationed at the top of the stairs took note of us and silenced the room. "Announcing Crown Prince Jackson and Princess Aylee!"

I considered casting a concealment charm so that I would blend into the shadows as what felt like a million eyes turned to us. "Don't trip," teased Aylee under her breath before she gracefully descended the stairs.

Joke was on her, since I'd already applied an anti-slip potion to the soles of my dress shoes. I beat her to the bottom and made my way to Mom and Dad. "You're late," Mom noted through a forced smile as she hugged me.

"Do I get birthday forgiveness?" I asked hopefully. Mom chuckled but didn't agree, so I decided to try another strategy to escape any trouble: turning the conversation to her new favorite topic. "So, uh, this Selection announcement. How's that gonna happen? Is there a plan, or…?"

Until this point, it seemed like the Selection was an event that was highly organized down to the most miniscule detail. However, it turned out that wasn't the case. "Just do it however you like, Jackson," offered Dad. His statement was accompanied by his usual Florian chuckle, which I had always thought sounded more like a giggle. "It doesn't really matter."

"Are you daft?" demanded Voris with a roll of his eyes as he joined our group, Minnie at his side. He was usually the most critical of Dad's lackadaisical tendencies. "Announce them by caste. It'll be more organized."

"It might seem biased that way," Minnie pointed out. She was one of the few who didn't wither under Voris's intense gaze when she contradicted him. "Why don't you do it in alphabetical order?"

That sounded logical. "Sure," I nodded. A moment later though, I frowned. "Uh, can someone alphabetize them first?"

"Are you kidding me?" laughed Aylee. "What, do you not know the alphabet?"

"Of course I do!" I sputtered, "It's just hard to do at the drop of a hat."

But Mom, who had taken the reins on the Selection up to this point, looked fed up with our deliberations. "Just open them," she declared, "They're already in random order, so just open the file, read the name, and move on. We'll do it after everyone's seated for dinner."

I nodded in agreement. That wasn't too bad. It usually took forever for them to serve dinner at state events.

This time, the joke was on me. Less than twenty minutes later, we were all seated, and Abasi was beckoning me to a small podium. "Just read the name and province," he explained. "We'll project their picture on the screen and then it'll be on to the next!"

"What screen?" I frowned as I glanced around the podium. "And what if I can't pronounce their name? Do I do first and last, or just one? Do I call them Miss or Lady?" I didn't even know I had that many questions before I'd been faced with the task.

"Okay, great," Abasi grinned, answering none of the inquiries. He waved his wand and a screen appeared, floating in the air behind us. At least there was one problem solved.

Another wave of his wand, and his floating camera blinked to life, the red button that indicated we were live illuminated. "Thank you for joining us, Illéa!" he beamed. He'd always had the best camera smile. His friendly demeanor was one of the things that had gotten him the job of _Report_ host. "First, a very special 'happy birthday' to our dear Prince Jackson!" The room applauded. I waved awkwardly, which made Aylee giggle from her seat next to Mom.

"Now, the moment I know you all have been anxiously awaiting: the announcement of the very lucky ladies that will be joining us in hopes of winning the prince's heart!" he declared. He turned to me. "Prince Jackson, whenever you're ready."

The stack of files was already awaiting me on the podium, and with a deep breath, I opened the first one. I didn't exhale until I realized I could read the name. I felt a little more relaxed when I realized I recognized the girl as well. She was in the music industry, and I'd seen her in magazines and on television. "Miss Merideth Dyonis from Columbia."

As soon as her picture faded from the screen, I moved on to the next. "Miss Jami Greyson from Labrador." I'd never seen this girl before, so I glanced over my shoulder to study her. She had light brown hair and vibrant blue-green eyes. There was a light spray of freckles over her nose and the tops of her cheeks, and before I really thought about it, I remarked, "Pretty." I didn't realize what I'd done until the room chuckled, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Luckily, Abasi gave a warm smile. "As they all are! Our next Selected, Your Highness?"

Good thing I had a pro like Abasi on my side. "Miss Mikaela Avenue from Lakedon." Her picture flashed on the screen as well, but this time I was distracted by a different aspect of her file. She was a Seven, which meant that she had no magical abilities. I was intrigued.

The announcement process carried on with little more embarrassment on my part. I stumbled over a few names (and probably looked like an idiot in the process), but all in all, it went well. The girls' names and faces had started to blur together by the end, so I made a mental note to take the files to my room so I could start to learn a little more about them so I could avoid humiliating myself to their faces once they actually arrived.

After the televised portion of the night was over, I made my way back to my seat and was surprised when I noticed who was seated to my right. "Harrod?!"

"Hey, man!" he grinned. He jumped to his feet and gave me an encouraging hug.

"I thought you were already in Likely!" I hugged him back. Since we were kids, Harrod had been my closest friend, more like a brother than a cousin.

"I couldn't miss your birthday," he countered.

My birthday and the Selection wasn't even on my mind anymore though. "How's Briarcliff?" I asked excitedly. "What classes are you taking? Who are your professors? Have you learned anything yet?"

Plunged into nerd-mode with me, Harrod grabbed my arm. "They have a scroll in the library that they think belonged to Merlin! You would love it, Jack."

My jaw dropped. "Dad, why don't we have that?!" I demanded.

"You have Voris," pointed out Harrod with a sly smile, "He's old enough to have belonged to Merlin." I nearly choked on my water as we both glanced down the table at my old tutor.

"But hey, enough about me," countered Harrod, "The Selection. Man. They're arriving next week, right?"

"Don't remind me," I ordered.

"Are you ready?" he asked excitedly.

"As ready as I would be to duel Voris," I shuddered. "Actually, at this point, I think I'd take that over trying to date thirty-five girls."

"It won't be that bad," Harrod countered. My cousin was forever the picture of optimism.

"Let's hope not," I mumbled.

* * *

 **Eira Gryffon, 2, Fennley**

The house was quiet in the early hours of morning, and I paused in the elegant foyer, pulling off my heeled black boots. Although it was only a few hours until sunrise, I was just getting in. My socked feet were silent as I hurried up the stairs to my bedroom. If I was lucky, I could snag a couple of hours of sleep before I had to be up for work.

After quickly changing in my bathroom from the black jumpsuit to a pair of pajamas, I slipped into my bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping body next to me. I let out a sigh of relief as I fell back into the fluffy pillows and let my eyes drift shut.

But all of the care that I'd taken was useless as a minute later, the cell phone in my bag across the room began to ring. I grabbed my wand off my nightstand and whispered, " _Uocare_." The phone flew from the bag to my hand. "Hello?"

"Eira?" the voice in the phone demanded, much too loudly. As always, he pronounced my name wrong: _eye_ -rah instead of _air_ -rah.

I repressed a groan. My boss. "Hi, Mr. Drexel," I muttered, the exhaustion seeping into my voice.

"I need you to come in early," he declared, "That goddess Asena has been at it again."

A smirk slipped onto my face. "Oh really?"

"So, I need you to come in and handle the paperwork," he declared. "I'm trying to help the boys get ahead on paperwork since we're going to be—" He cut himself off as he tried to swallow a laugh. "Since we're going to be covering for you while you're off living your fairytale, Princess." This time, he didn't repress the taunting chortles.

I grit my teeth together. "I'll be right in," I declared as I threw the blanket off to start getting ready.

The sleeping figure in my bed sat up. "Eir?" she asked with a yawn.

"Sorry," I whispered to my best friend, Kalyani. "Got called in early." I paused and smirked. "Apparently, Asena has been out doing the DML's job for them again."

Kalyani laughed. "Oh, really?"

I shrugged in amusement. "Guess she couldn't help herself?"

"Even though Thayer said they're turning up the heat in Angeles looking for Asena?" she said, referring to our other best friend and her boyfriend. "Eir, you have to be careful. You know the palace denounced vigilantism. Voris Alastor has been a very strong opponent against it."

"Well, if I see Asena, I'll let her know," I winked. I pulled my wavy, dark brown hair from its ponytail and shook it out around my shoulders. I usually liked to do my hair and make-up before work, but since it was four AM, I decided to give myself a pass and just reached for some lip gloss. I'd often been told that I didn't need makeup anyway—although usually it was by stupid men who thought that I used it to hide something and couldn't understand that I just liked the process of getting dressed up.

I ducked into the bathroom to change into my uniform and called to Kalyani, "Besides, Asena has to take a vacation from Fennley soon, so why shouldn't she get as many scumbags off the street before she leaves?"

Kalyani gave an excited squeal. "I can't believe you were Selected!" she gushed. "I'm so excited. You'd be such a good princess."

"I'm just excited to get to see my dad a little more often," I smiled to myself. My dad was in politics and worked as an advisor to the king, which meant that he spent most of his time in Angeles. He was the best dad in the world, and we were very close, so I was excited to get to see him more than on the weekends while I was participating in the Selection. As an added bonus, Thayer was interning at the palace with my father, so while I was a little unsure about being a member of Prince Jackson's Selection, there were definitely some upsides to it.

"Oh, so you're not excited about the prince at all?" Kalyani teased, "Thayer says he's cuter in person."

"Why are you and Thayer discussing how cute he is?" I laughed.

"I had to get the scoop on your future boyfriend," Kalyani declared, "just to make sure he's good enough."

"I have met him briefly before," I pointed out as I fell into a chair to pull my shoes on, "He was… pleasant. A little awkward, but still nice."

Kalyani swished her wand, in a movement that made me think she was summoning something even though she didn't verbally say the spell. A moment later, there was a bump at my door, and when I opened it, a cup of coffee floated just outside. "Thanks," I laughed as I took it.

"Something tells me you'll need it," she laughed. "Drexel sounds like he's going to work you to death this week."

"I'd like to see him try," I snorted. I grabbed my bag and waved to Kalyani before I raced down to the foyer to grab a handful of Volatum Powder. I swished it in my hand and thought of my office before I threw it over myself.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing outside Fennley's Magical Law building. I hurried inside and turned down the first hallway, which opened into the enforcement wing. Because of the time, the atrium was mostly empty except for the security guard, Russell. "Good morning, Miss Eira," he smiled. "Hey, congratulations! Boy, was I excited when I saw them say your name on the _Report_."

I laughed a little uncomfortably. Being Selected didn't feel like a real accomplishment, although people had been congratulating me nonstop since the announcement had been made two nights ago. "Thanks, Russ," I smiled anyway. Russell was one of the few people I worked with that was actually pleasant.

The enforcement office was already busier than I expected when I walked in. There were three men sitting in the holding cell, their hands all bound behind their backs. Before I could even be proud of the work I'd accomplished that night as my covert alter ego, Asena, a large stack of files was shoved into my arms. "Processing," my coworker, Lloyd, declared. "Drexel says to get them finished ASAP and then you're on meter duty."

I rolled my eyes but took the files to my desk. There were a few other deputies present, and they all smirked as I took my seat. "There's the Beauty Queen," laughed one of my coworkers, Matt. "Drexel pull you away from painting your nails?"

I sighed. "It's too early for you to be a chauvinist."

"You better stow that attitude if you want the prince to keep you around," Lloyd muttered as he fell into his seat next to Matt. "That pretty face isn't gonna get you as far there."

"Don't forget, Lloyd-y, her Daddy works there," smirked Matt, "She's got a leg up on all those poor girls."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, because my _father_ is going to be really involved in my dating life," I snapped. I opened the first file. "Asena brought all three of those guys in?"

"Now, _that_ is an impressive woman," declared Matt. "You know she caught that scumbag that's been mugging Ord taxi drivers all over the city?"

Ords were what we referred to non-magical people as. Generally, they belonged to the lower castes, although there were some people in higher castes that chose not to practice magic or didn't possess the ability. While Ords were _supposed_ to be regarded the same protection as any Wand (the common term for witches and wizards), complaints made by Ords were generally regarded as low priority and usually took months to resolve, if they were even dealt with at all.

An attack against an Ord was what had motivated me to become a deputy in the first place. I'd been walking home from the library after a night of studying when I saw an Ord attacked by a Wand. I'd intervened, but it'd been useless. He'd died before medical help had arrived, and the man who had attacked him had never been caught.

But joining the Department of Magical Law hadn't been exactly what I hoped for either. Instead of being out in the field, defending those who couldn't defend themselves, I was constantly stuck on desk duty or dealing with petty complaints while putting up with teasing from my coworkers and superiors. You name it, they joked about it: I was too pretty, too well off, too opinionated, too girly. They had a million ways of snidely complaining about the fact that a woman had made it into their department as something other than a receptionist.

It was the resulting disillusionment of organized law that had inspired me to create Asena. Cloaked in black and a mask—always with a pair of impressive boots, because even vigilantes had to be fashionable—and armed with the information that my job with the DML made available to me, I took care of the criminals that had evaded my lazy coworkers or the cases that were deemed 'unimportant'. Every collar I made as Asena made putting up with the awful, sexist pigs in my office worth it.

The truly hilarious part was that they loved me as Asena. Although vigilantism _had_ been denounced by the palace, Asena had fans everywhere. They loved the idea of someone protecting the little people, and while the DML had been put on alert to capture the vigilante if possible, many offices turned a blind eye to my exploits as Asena.

"We did get a new picture of her from security footage though," Lloyd announced. I stiffened for a moment a she pulled the photo from a folder, but it was useless. The trusty black mask hid my features well.

Matt whistled. "What I wouldn't do to get with a girl like her."

I rolled my eyes. "Something tells me she has higher standards."

Matt's eyes narrowed at me. "You gonna process those arrests or lollygag all morning?" he demanded.

"Yeah, cause if you got all this spare time, Matt and I were talking about how a sandwich sounds pretty nice right about now. You're pretty familiar with the kitchen as a girl, aren't you?" interjected Lloyd. He and Matt chuckled and then gave each other ridiculous high-fives.

My lip curled at the pair. While I hadn't been sure how to feel about being Selected when it had first happened, I couldn't wait to be away from the pigs that they claimed were deputies. Only seven more days until I was liberated from the oppression of their stupidity. I only hoped that Prince Jackson was more impressive than Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hi everyone! I hope everyone has been enjoying their holidays. So now you've met Eira, our second main character! I'm not sure how many mains there will be, but there will be several supporting characters as well. I did also just want to mention, if you've reserved a character, please get her in by January 1st. If you don't have part of her messaged to me by then, I will be opening the spots. If you know you won't be able to have her in by then, please message me and we can discuss it. Thanks for reading, and thank you to everyone who has sent in a character, reviewed, and followed (:


	5. Chapter 5: New Faces and New Friends

**Satrina Vasilakis, 8, Atlin**

Believe me, the irony of the day was not wasted on me. This morning, I woke up at "home" in Atlin—an alley off the corner of 4th Street and Pickford—and now, the palace was staring me down. In only a few hours, I'd gone from an Eight, a nobody, to a Three.

Not that our newly established equality stopped some of the other girls from sending me odd looks. Really, I appeared to have developed a newfound fan club. When I'd arrived at the airport in Atlin, the other girls had stopped their nervous chatter, all eyes falling on me. I have that sort of effect on people, I guess.

But now, as we were led into the palace by an overly bubbly, energetic woman named Yvonne—who I suspected had an IV drip of straight caffeine hidden somewhere under her clothes—no one looked at me, because we were all too busy gawking at the palace. Really, if I thought my family's house growing up had been extravagant, this was something else: marble floors, gilded picture frames of past monarchs, multiple chandeliers in every room and hallway that we passed through.

There were obvious traces of magic in the castle, too—powerful magic, the kind you can _feel_. It hung over the place like a shimmering quilt of energy, and I had to ignore its pull. My wand, one of my only remnants from life as a Two, was stashed in the band of my hand-me-down jeans, and I could tell that it felt the magic too. My hand itched to reach for it, but I reminded myself that Eight Satrina wasn't allowed to have a wand. It might've been dangerous to bring it to the palace, but I was nervous to leave it hidden somewhere in Atlin, so I had decided to risk it anyway.

"Wow." The girl next to me—extremely long blonde hair, average build, gorgeous (of course)—looked transfixed by our surroundings. Her eyes were darting around, drinking in everything. I couldn't remember her name—I think I'd heard it was something like Missy or Sissy, the kind of name that went with her sweet, innocent face. "Have you ever seen something so beautiful?"

She seemed quiet, not the type that I'd usually gravitate towards. But there was something so vulnerable about her that I didn't shrug her off like I might've usually. I didn't return her awe-struck smile or anything, but I did respond, "No, I don't imagine I have."

Although I didn't know how to feel about it, my response seemed to encourage her. "I'm Felicity," she added tentatively, "You can call me Lissy though. Everyone does."

I wasn't really one for nicknames. In my experience, they usually weren't as sweet as Felicity's. The most common that had followed me in Atlin were things like "Devil's Daughter" or "Pirate". Charming, right? "Felicity," I repeated, trying to commit it to mind. I was terrible with names. I turned my face towards her, carefully watching her reaction. "I'm Satrina."

To my surprise, she didn't waver at my face. "I like that name," she decided. It took some effort, but I held my smile back. Compliments weren't usually the first thing that people offered me.

Yvonne turned to us as we reached a set of double doors. "Before you meet the prince and are shown to your bedrooms, you'll all have your makeovers," she explained. "These are for you, to ensure that you feel your best when you're presented to the Prince."

I rolled my eyes. I highly doubted it was for us.

"The maids and technicians are all highly skilled," Yvonne continued. "I encourage you to listen to their suggestions to ensure that the process moves along as smoothly as possible."

When the doors opened, I had to admit that I was a little amazed by the sheer force they'd provided for our makeovers. There were stations for each of us, with a team of four awaiting us. Yvonne directed us to different stations, and as I made my way to station 7, I could see my team shoot each other uncomfortable looks. I squared my shoulders more proudly in response.

The first to greet me was a tall, thin man. "Lady Satrina?"

I didn't reserve the same generosity for them as I had Felicity and gave them a silent nod. The four looked daunted as they observed me. "Why don't we just get you washed up before we decide where to go from there?"

'Washed up' was an understatement. I'd had the luxury of a hot shower this morning—apparently, Atlin had decided they couldn't send a dirty street urchin to the palace—but it was nothing compared to what they put me through now. I was scrubbed, exfoliated, polished, buffed, and lotioned within an inch of my life.

As if that weren't awkward enough, when the tall man collected my clothes and found my wand in the pile, he'd given me a curious look, clearly aware that I had entered the Selection as an Eight. For a minute, there was a slight pang of panic in my chest. But I'd summoned every inch of haughtiness that I'd possessed when I was a Two and simply shrugged, "Send it to my room. Unless there's some reason I'd need it for the time being?" I punctuated my statement with a cold look, clearly letting him know that I knew how to use the wand if he tried to challenge me.

"What sort of look were you going for, Lady Satrina?" one of the girls asked as she used her wand to detangle my long, dirty blonde curls.

"Er…" As someone who'd worn whatever I could get my hands on for the last three years, it was hard to suddenly come up with style. I tugged at the raven pendant around my neck as I considered the question.

One of the maids reached out and caught my hand, gently pulling the pendant from it. Instead of being unnerved as I had expected, she smiled. "We'll just use this as some inspiration," she decided. She took charge and headed off to the overflowing racks of clothes that had been provided for us.

While the rest of the makeover team worked on my hair, smoothing it into more refined curls than I'd seen in a long time, and painted my newly long nails and perfectly manicured toenails a deep maroon color, I watched them work in the mirror. They moved quickly, wands flashing, and it felt almost comforting to watch magic being so casually used.

Although I'd tried to forget about it and push it away, a part of me missed magic.

"So, what's life like as an Ord?" one of the maids asked eagerly as she began to braid my hair.

My eyes landed on her in the mirror, and she looked unsettled. "What makes you think I'm an Ord?" I demanded in a cold voice.

She was so unnerved that the hair slipped from her hands. "Oh, I didn't… I just thought that…" She cleared her throat and fell silent as she picked up the hair again.

There was silence amongst the team before they turned their attention to my makeup. Even though it should've only taken one of them, all four focused on my face. "What do you want us to do about the, uh…" The tall man gestured towards my face.

"The scar?" I smirked. "You can cover it up."

They nodded and set to work, although I felt a small pang of nervousness in my stomach. In the past, I'd tried to cover the large scar that covered the left side of my face, radiating out from my cloudy left eye. Almost as though it was penance for the mistakes I'd made that had resulted in it, the scar wasn't easy to hide.

True to form, it was like the scar burned away any concealer or makeup that they dabbed on it. Even when one of the maids tried a simple concealment charm on it, the marred skin shone through. They nervously exchanged looks with each other. "Why don't we get you dressed?" the maid who had examined my raven pendant suggested. "We'll see if someone else can help us with the makeup."

I nodded (because what else was I going to do, really?) and allowed them help me into the outfit that they'd chosen. It was a simple black day dress with long, off-the-shoulder sleeves, and a pair of booties that concealed the snake tattoo on my right foot. It felt elegant but still like _me_. I decided that I liked it as I spun to examine the intricate braids that had been woven into my long hair.

A short time later, one of the maids returned with an old man. Despite his age, he stood tall, and his gaze was penetrating. "We were wondering if you had a suggestion, Voris," the tall man explained weakly. Voris obviously intimidated the hell out of him.

If I'm being honest, Voris intimidated me too. Growing up a Two with the best tutors that my parents could find meant that I knew who Voris Alastor was, one of the best wizards of our day. As he examined my scars, I had the sinking feeling that he _knew_.

To my surprise, he smiled and offered a hand. "Of course," he declared, "I should have something in my study that will help. If you'd like to accompany me, Lady Satrina?"

I nervously accepted his arm. Once we were free from the loud chatter of the makeover room, he remarked, "You're a Vasilakis, are you not?"

"No," I countered instantly and hotly. Three years had done nothing to alleviate the grudge that I held against my family. Voris raised an eyebrow in my direction. "I mean—I suppose, yes," I frowned. "But I don't talk to them."

In another startling act, Voris laughed. "Nothing to be ashamed of," he decided, "Families are complex. Especially powerful families."

I exhaled in relief. If he only knew.

His study was at the top of a stone tower, a little more outdated than the rest of the palace. Voris offered me a seat before he began to peruse the shelves that lined one of the walls. "You're blind in your left eye, aren't you?" he asked bluntly.

"Uh… yes," I admitted.

"But not from magic?"

"No." How did he know these things? "It was an attempt at… fixing it."

"The scars," Voris noted as he inspected a few jars. "That didn't come from the 'fixing.'"

"No," I admitted in a small voice.

"Dark magic."

I froze as Voris turned towards me. His lined face was curved in a smile, a vial clutched in one of his hands. "How did you know?" I breathed.

"Dark magic leaves scars that aren't easily concealed," he explained. "It craves to be recognized." He uncorked the vial and held it out to me. A viscous, green sludge sat in the bottom of it. "Luckily, I've been told I'm an exceptionally talented wizard."

Nervously, I took the vial. I raised it to my nose and cringed. It smelled rancid, the sort of aroma that burned the inside of your nose. It made me nervous about putting such a substance on my face. Voris summoned a mirror, and I tentatively dabbed the liquid on the scars that mottled my face.

Instantly, I regretted it. It burned, reminding me of the blinding pain that I'd felt when I'd acquired the scars through, as Voris had guessed, a dark spell gone wrong. I gasped, stumbling backwards to grab the chair I'd been sitting in. As the potion burned across my face, the pain was blinding, causing little black dots to dance in front of my good eye.

But then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain faded. I gasped for air and raised a shaky hand to my face, and instead of the raised, angry marks, I felt nothing. Completely smooth. I turned to the mirror, and a different feeling took my breath away.

Aside from my cloudy eye, I looked almost exactly as I had three years ago. It was incredible but also a little unsettling. My scarred face had become part of Satrina, and I felt somewhat exposed without them.

Voris held out a bottle of the green slush and a clear vial. "You'll need to reapply each morning. If you're with us for a prolonged time, I can always make more. The drops are for your blind eye. They won't return your sight but will make it look more like the other."

I hesitated. Life on the streets as an Eight had taught me that things were rarely free or given away out of the kindness of someone's heart. "I don't have anything to give you," I clarified.

A sly smile slid across Voris' old face. "I'm a fortunate man, Lady Satrina," Voris announced. "I no longer require traditional payment. There are things far more useful than money."

I frowned. "Like what?"

Voris swished his wand, and the mirror disappeared. He turned away from me. "One day, I have no doubt that you'll make yourself quite useful. After all, we wouldn't want Prince Jackson to find out about your dark dalliances." Another wave of his wand, and the door to the study opened again. "Hyde will take you back to the makeover room. Until we meet again, Lady Satrina."

I swallowed deeply but made my way from the room. I had a nervous feeling that the price that I was going to pay for keeping my secret hidden was going to be steep.

* * *

 **Prince Jackson**

I tugged at the sleeves of my jacket once more. My mother tapped me on the arm with her wand, and for a moment, I wondered if she'd cast a freezing charm on me. It turned out she hadn't, I was just that nervous. "Stop fidgeting," she instructed, "It's going to be fine."

"Just be yourself!" Dad ordered cheerfully.

"Well, if I'm being myself, then a tea party isn't exactly the way I would want to go," I mumbled as I glanced around at the tiny sandwiches, sweets, and teacups laid out before me.

Mom looked offended, since she'd been the one to put the set up together. "Well, you said meeting them all at once would be overwhelming," she pointed out, "I thought that a casual tea setting—"

"Is tea casual?" Aylee wondered from her chair in the corner, not even bothering to look up from her book. I wished that Harrod was here instead of her, but he'd returned to Briarcliff days ago.

I pulled at my tie. "It's fine," I decided. "Tea. Casual. Great. Let's just do this."

"You'll do wonderful, darling!" Mom kissed the top of my head, careful not to ruffle my hair, and pulled my sister and father from the room. I felt oddly alone as I sat with the large windows at my back and the enormous tea spread in front of me.

Thirty-five girls. Merlin help me.

I nodded at the butler at the door, and he opened it to reveal the first girl.

She was a small girl, considerably shorter than myself, with thick, dark eyebrows that framed sweet brown eyes. She was dressed in a vintage style gown that fell to her knees, and her hair was pulled into a messy bun. She curtsied, and I stood to…

Shake her hand? Oh, for Merlin's sake. I cringed at my instincts, but luckily, she didn't seem too caught off guard by it. "It's great to meet you," she smiled as she returned the gesture with a firm shake.

"You as well, Lady…" I grasped at the very corners of my mind for her name, but I couldn't find it anywhere. Instead, I turned apologetic eyes on her.

"Katya," she answered with a smile. She settled herself in the chair across from me, and I exhaled, relieved that she hadn't seemed offended that by my inability to remember names. It was one of the things that I'd been trying to improve on for years.

"What do you do back home, Lady Katya?" I asked. I noticed her eyes settle on a plate of cheeses on the table before us. "Oh," I blushed, feeling rude, "Sorry. Help yourself."

She plucked a piece of pepper jack from the plate, which made me smile. "I like spicy foods too," I muttered as I mirrored her action.

She smiled, seeming to relax. "I'm a librarian," she answered, returning to my original question, "but I hope to be an aurologist. I've been studying with a tutor for a few years now."

A Three. She must've been a Three then. "That's so interesting," I commented earnestly. "I don't know much about auras," I admitted, a little bashfully, "Voris has never…" The truth was Voris thought it was a useless magical focus. "He's not very good at it," I lied.

Great. Not even through our first conversation and I was already lying. I wanted to kick myself but grabbed another piece of spicy cheese as punishment instead.

Katya smiled. "I'd love to tell you more about it sometime," she offered.

We talked for a little while longer—her brother was at Briarcliff as well, and I made a mental note to ask Harrod about it—before Lady Katya was disappearing through the doors once more. I sighed in relief. One down, thirty-four to go.

As the girls cycled through the room, there was one conclusion at the forefront of my mind: they were all incredible, in one way or the other. Some were well-known. I met Arabella Morgernstern, a famous soccer player who was so energetic I felt a little wound up myself after she left; ballerina Babette Valo, the Two who lived like an Ord even though she had a right to magic; and a quieter girl, Merideth Dyonis, a lovely blonde songwriter that I'd seen in the tabloids before.

But even the ones who weren't famous were fascinating. It wasn't as nerve-racking as I thought it would be, because I just liked to listen to them. I'd never met a circus performer like Akira or an animal trainer like Cecily before. Their lives were so different from the sheltered upbringing I'd experienced. Akira was one of the girls that stood out to me the most, and I scribbled her name down on a napkin with my wand in the few seconds between her departure and the next girl's arrival.

Admittedly, some made me nervous. There'd been a girl named Mavis—an Eight, if I remembered correctly—who'd been so charming that I'd forgotten about her caste within seconds. But it was the flirty kind of charm that I wasn't entirely sure of how to respond to.

There were a few I was familiar with: Eira Gryffon, whose father was an advisor to my father, and Kanon Sato, who was part of a construction project that was going on at the palace right now. Their presence was a little relaxing, as it made me feel like I had allies in the group.

I tried not to stare as the next girl stepped into the room. While most of the girls had gravitated towards brighter colors—perhaps to make them stand out or something—the girl that walked into the room was clad all in black. The only jewelry she wore was a raven pendant at her neck, and her hair swung across her back, the upper half of it twisted into intricate braids.

She executed a perfect curtsy before me, and when she straightened, I tried not to stare at her face. It was beautiful and captivating: one blue-green eye, the other not quite as vibrant, the iris a little cloudy. Her skin was clear, save a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and the tops of her cheeks, and she had full, smiling lips.

She didn't need prompting like some of the other girls. "Lady Satrina, Your Highness," she smiled, "It's wonderful to meet you."

I'd been so mesmerized that I hadn't even stood, and I abruptly gestured to the seat across from me. "Please."

Satrina smiled and took a seat. She delicately readied herself a cup of tea, which I found confusing. Lady Satrina had been an Eight. I remembered her form. And there was something about her face that was different, although I couldn't put my finger on it. But an Eight couldn't be as graceful and proper as she was.

"You have a beautiful home," Satrina commented when I failed to speak.

I forced myself to stop thinking. "Thanks," I replied with a tight smile. "Where's home for you, Lady Satrina?"

There was a slight hesitation before she answered. "Atlin."

"Do you have any family?" I pressed.

"Just a one-eyed cat," she noted with an amused smile, "He's a bit of a ruffian, but we match pretty well." She winked her cloudy eye.

I cleared my throat. "Does that… you know, hurt at all? I could send the palace doctor, if you needed—"

Satrina smiled. "It's an old injury," she countered with a shrug. "But that's nice of you to offer."

"I like it," I decided, unsure of whether that was a weird thing to offer or not. She smiled, like she wasn't quite sure of what to make of me. Merlin, I needed to learn how to interact with girls. "It's distinctive."

"Thank you?" chuckled Satrina. "What's something distinctive about yourself, Your Highness?"

I racked my brain. There wasn't much. I was just your standard, every day, run-of-the-mill prince. "Uh… I'm a big geek about Merlin?" I offered.

She laughed. "Really?" I nodded my confirmation. Luckily, she didn't seem disappointed in my nerdiness. "I read a lot about Morgana Le Fay when I was younger," she noted.

This just made me like Satrina more. "We'll have to compare our Arthurian knowledge some time," I decided, making a mental note to add her name to the list right under Akira's.

"I would like that," she smiled. She curtsied once more before making her departure.

Somehow, I'd gotten through thirty-four girls. I felt pretty good about how it had gone so far until I remembered that precedent expected me to eliminate some girls on the first day. My stomach sank, and I was frowning when the door opened for the last time.

A tall, statuesque girl with curly, brown hair breezed into the room. She was clad in a lavender gown that had a Grecian vibe to it. The light color complimented her bronzed, caramel skin nicely, but I was surprised when she extended a hand to me instead of curtsying. When I took her hand to shake it, I saw a litany of old scars on her hands and forearms.

She followed my gaze and laughed. "Sorry," she noted as she retracted her hand, "Hazard of the job."

"Which would be…?"

She straightened her back proudly. "Maren Ashford, at your service," she beamed, "Magizoologist."

"Wow," I noted, "That's impressive."

She raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm a girl?"

I choked on my tea. "No!" I insisted with a laugh. "Because you're so old."

"Oh." She looked a little embarrassed by her reaction. "Sorry. A lot of people usually give me a hard time about it. It was a family business—father, grandfather, things like that—so something I just sort of happened into."

"I think it's really cool," I insisted. "I'm also in a family business." She laughed, which made me relax a little. "So, the Selection must be a walk in the park to someone who's used to magical creatures, right?"

"Oh, I don't know," shrugged Maren, "Dragons aren't nearly as scary as some of the girls."

I almost choked on my tea again and decided to abandon the cup for the rest of my conversation with Maren. "I've never met a dragon, but I'll take your word for it."

We discussed her work and travels a little more before Maren disappeared back into the hall, and I was officially finished. I took a deep breath and fell back into my chair.

"Well, that was only slightly painful."

"Ah!" I jumped out of my chair and grabbed my wand, holding it aloft as my eyes darted wildly around the supposedly empty room.

Aylee stepped away from the curtain. It took a minute for her skin and clothes to change from a maroon velvet that matched the drapes back to their usual appearance. "What are you _doing_ here?" I demanded, feeling embarrassed that my sister had sat through thirty-five interviews. "Have you been here the whole time?!"

"I only came in partway through," she answered. "I was working on my concealment charms. I thought that Eira girl noticed me, but I think she decided it was just a breeze or something."

"I hate you," I groaned.

"No, you don't," she decided, "because now I can help you decide who to send home!"

She had a point. Maybe she'd seen something—like some total lack of chemistry—that I hadn't been able to notice from inside the conversations. "Who are you thinking?" I wondered tentatively. I hoped that she didn't name any of the girls that I'd felt a little more drawn to.

She listed off a few girls that I hadn't exactly been enthused about: Ladies Alina, Carmen, Hana, Marissa, Dia, Morgan, Tati, and Petra. "Believe me," snorted Aylee, "Your wife is not in that bunch, if you're hoping not to die of boredom before you're thirty. I almost fell asleep during Lady Marissa's three minutes of torture—"

"Don't be mean," declared Mom as she swept into the room. "So, how was it?"

"Fine," I offered vaguely, not exactly eager to talk about any blossoming relationships with my mother.

Aylee smirked. "Not too horrendously awkward—"

"Don't you have lessons?" I snapped at her. She stuck her tongue out at me before she tapped her own head with her wand and blended into the background again. "We need to ban concealment charms for the duration of this thing," I decided as I turned back to mom.

"Did you like them?" she pressed.

I groaned. "Mom, I don't really want to talk about this right now. I just spent almost three hours acting like an investigative reporter."

"Of course, dear," she agreed, taking my arm. "We can talk about it after dinner."

Another groan. I wasn't sure who was going to be the death of me during this thing, the girls or my family.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry this chapter was kind of long! I just wanted to introduce a lot. Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive! I do have an important note though: The Selection will close this Monday, the 16th _._ If your complete character is not in by then, I will have to replace her with a throwaway. I've given a lot of time, so I'm sorry if anyone is unable to meet this deadline. Also, if your character wasn't mentioned this chapter, please don't be upset! It doesn't mean anything. I just didn't want to squeeze too much in. Thanks for reading!


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